Life Interrupted
by KMSPIFFING
Summary: Sydney’s time with the Covenant is interrupted as Sark appears. Together they work to escape the hold of their many enemies.
1. Chapter 1

Kendall would kill Sydney if he found out that she was meeting this contact without his permission. He was her handler when she was Julia Thorne, and as such all missions were to go through him. That was their safety net, so as not to let the CIA know that she was alive. If one of her missions was somehow involved with one of theirs, Kendall was there to run interference.

But Sydney couldn't let an opportunity like this pass. This contact said that he had information on Sydney Bristow's disappearance, information that had to do with Arvin Sloane. God she would love to see that man pay for what he'd done to her. Apparently this contact had worked with Sloane in the past, and not surprisingly was more than willing to sell him out.

So here she was sitting outside at a little café in Italy waiting for this informant. Sure it was dangerous. She couldn't let the Covenant know that she was pursuing leads on Sydney Bristow's disappearance. That would blow her cover. She also couldn't tell Kendall because he would find some way of talking her out of this. It was odd, but after working with him over these past few months, they had become friends. She could talk to him now. She saw him as a person rather than a pompous boss. She'd been waiting for ten minutes now. But that wasn't surprising as she'd arrived early to scout out the area.

Sydney sipped at her cup of tea as she waited. How had she ever let her life become so complicated? She had left her friends, her family, and even her lover behind for this. What would they say to her when they found out about this? Would they hate her? Maybe they had already moved on. After all to them she was dead. Dust in the wind. Had they forgotten her? This was not the time to think about this. She had to prepare herself for this meeting.

"Miss Thorne I presume?" Asked a British voice from behind her. Not just any old voice. How the hell could Sark be her contact? The last time she saw him he was in CIA custody. Surely they didn't let him go. And they must have learned from her mother not to let him escape. Perhaps he was working with them. In that case this would blow her cover.

"Who wants to know?" She asked with a Russian accent hoping to throw him off.

He walked around to get a look at this lady but she turned her face, which was covered with sunglasses and long blonde hair.

"My name is Mr. Sark. The one you arranged this meeting with." He replied.

"Yes I'm sorry. That was a mistake," She said getting up. She began to walk away hoping that he would just give up. Unfortunately she had intrigued him and he followed her away from the café.

Her voice sounded so familiar to him. Sark knew that he'd heard it before. If only he could get a look at her face. The CIA could track him by satellite anyways so he was safe to pursue this woman.

She walked very quickly hoping to give him a hint, but Sark was far too sure of himself to be blown off so easily. He quickly caught up to her grabbing her arm, whipping her around to face him. Her sunglasses flew off, leaving her face to face with Sark.

"Good Lord. It couldn't possibly be you," He whispered, mainly to himself.

Sydney knew that she was in trouble. Her spy training kicked in. She shook him off and ran. He took off right after her, keeping up rather well considering his long time in custody.

The chase was on. Sydney wove in and out of street vendors, and angry people, around corners and across busy streets hoping to shake him. No such luck. Sark was as good as ever. She finally turned the corner and found herself facing a dead end. She quickly turned around, but Sark was already behind her, trapping her in this deserted ally way.

"Miss Bristow. What a pleasant surprise running into you here," He said with another one of his ever growing smirks.

So he hasn't lost his sense of humor Sydney noted.

"Or perhaps I should call you Julia Thorne. After all I've heard such thrilling tales of you. An assassin if my sources are correct. But then again, the Sydney I knew would never allow herself to murder a man in cold blood. Which begs the question, what have you been up to?"

She didn't answer him right away. She just stared into those bright blue eyes. It was good to finally see someone familiar, someone from her life as Sydney Bristow. As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, Sark took the chance to really look at her. She was still as gorgeous as ever, but far to skinny.

She finally shook herself out of her thoughts. Choosing hier words carefully in case the CIA was listening in she asked,

"Are you here alone?"

"You mean is the CIA listening in? No but they are tracking me via Satellite."

"So they trust you enough to let you out. Had to have given them something big to have arranged that."

"The CIA and I agreed to look into your death together," he replied, eager to hear her response.

"And what exactly do you get out of this?"

"Fresh air, a chance to stretch my legs, and apparently time to chat with an old friend,"

"An old friend huh? So then Sark if we're old friends you wouldn't mind doing me a favor." She asked.

"What could you possibly want from me?"

"Don't tell the CIA that I'm alive."

Sark was completely confused. What possible reason could she have for running from the CIA? After all, she'd practically dedicated her life to those imbeciles.

"You know Sydney, my agreement with your," he had to word this correctly. "Former employer is very stringent. Am I to assume that you want me to risk my life to keep your secret from your," another pause. "Your father, your friends. Your Agent Vaughn?"

"Look Sark…" she began, but was interrupted by the nagging ringing of her cell phone. She dug it out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID. Apparently she didn't like this interruption because she rolled her eyes as she rudely answered.

"What?...What problems?...I warned you that they would send someone…No. The CIA won't risk leaving it out in the open…I'll expect to hear from you within the hour." She hung up.

Interesting thought Sark. She's working against the CIA.

"You know Sydney it's uncanny how much you remind me of your mother these days. She always managed to threaten people while remaining perfectly calm."

"How nice for her," Sydney said bitterly. By now Sark was standing a mere arm length away from her. She took a step back only to have him repeat the gesture, closing the distance again. "Are you going to tell the CIA about me?"

"Miss Bristow, as much as I would love to help you here, the sooner I help the CIA locate you, the sooner I get out of custody."

"That's what I thought" She said as she swung her fist at him, hitting him squarely in the jaw.

He reacted quickly ducking her next punch and delivering one of his own into her cheek. They fought back and fourth, neither one really gaining the upper hand. After awhile Sydney was bleeding from her forehead and cheek with bruises all over her face, arms, and body. Sark had a cut on his arm and his nose was bleeding. His body wasn't faring to much better, seeing as how he was equally covered in bruises.

"Do you really plan to beat me up until I agree to keep this from the CIA?" He asked, sounding out of breath.

"No I just plan to beat you for the fun of it!" She yelled, kicking him in the stomach.

"See now, you haven't really changed at all so why are you hiding?"

"I don't remember you talking this much!"

"Think about me often, do you?" He said as he kicked her in the back sending her face first straight into the concrete wall.

"Ah," she grunted from the impact of her head hitting stone. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm bringing it behind her back, putting his other arm across the back of her neck succeeding in holding her in her place. She struggled for a moment, but her attempts were futile, as each time she moved it shot pain up her arm.

"Sydney, are you going to tell me why you're hiding from the CIA, or shall I just take you in and allow them to interrogate you themselves?"

"You are such a Bastard," she yelled as her phone rang again.

"You certainly are popular tonight." He reached down into her pocket slowly grazing the front of her thigh and grabbed her phone. "Mr. Cvechnik is calling"

Sark opened the phone and held it up to her ear, keeping hold of her arm and pushing her harder into the wall.

"Hello sir…No the mission went well…yes I took care of him, he won't be talking to anyone…No sir…I understand"

Sark closed the phone, put it into his pocket, and replaced his arm over her neck.

"Why is it that you're so willing to talk to all these other people, but you've only managed to insult me?"

He pulled a syringe from his pocket and stuck it into the back of her thight as she started to answer him.

"Because you're wyaa… What the hell was that?" Sydney demanded.

"Sedative. Goodnight Agent Bristow," He whispered into her ear as she was pulled into a deep sleep in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Sydney's sense slowly began to return to her as her mind drifted back into consciousness. She tried to open her eyes as the pounding in her head intensified. It was dark, wherever she was, dark and surprisingly warm. Her head, she could tell, rested on a soft pillow and her body was covered with a warm blanket. Was she in a bed? Yes, that must be it. As her eyes finally opened she found herself in a modest bedroom, a desk and dresser against the walls and of course the bed that she now lie in. Where the hell was she, she wondered as she tried to sit up, only to discover her hands cuffed to the bed above her head. Damn, she wasn't going anywhere. Although her legs weren't tied down, she found it hard to move at all. What did Sark give her?

She never should have gone behind Kendall's back. What if he'd already delivered her to the CIA? Would they really tie her to a bed though? No, she'd probably be locked up in the infamous glass cage. She couldn't be in the Covenants custody either. They would simply kill her, of torture her. She didn't even know which was worse. Sark must be around here somewhere, she thought. If only she could free herself. As her mind began fruitlessly formulating escape plans, footsteps approached the door. A key was pushed into the keyhole and the doorknob began to turn. She was about to see her captor.

The door opened and surprisingly, it was not Sark who entered the room, just one of his lowly guards. Damn!!! He approached the helpless agent looking down on her. The guard reached slowly into his pocket. What was he doing Sydney wondered. Was he reaching for a gun or a knife? No, if Sark wanted her dead he wouldn't have kidnapped her. As the guards hand reappeared she saw he held a small plastic bottle.

"Painkillers," he replied to the questioning look on her face.

He opened the bottle and poured two small pills onto his palm reaching toward her mouth. Sydney jerked away, refusing to willingly take anything that this man had to offer.

"Mr. Sark wishes you to take these," the man insisted. "If you decide to be difficult, he does have more convincing methods of persuasion."

Sydney looked into this mans eyes. Instead of mocking or loathing, she saw sympathy. Surely he didn't feel sorry for her. Sark would never allow for such a weakness to exist in one of his employees. As she analyzed his face, he once again offered her the pills and grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand beside her bed.

"Where is Sark?" she questioned. "What does he want with me?"

"The pills Miss," he insisted.

"Fine. You can tell Mr. Sark that the next time I wake up he better have his cocky ass down here to talk to me!" she yelled at the guard.

"I'll be sure to relay the message Miss" he told her, placing the pills in her mouth and allowing her to sip some water, before placing the bottle back on the table and leaving the room.

Sydney could think of nothing else other than giving Sark a thorough ass kicking as the drugs slowly kicked in and the pounding soon ended. She would have her chance to give him a piece of her mind. She was counting on it, she thought as she soon drifted back to sleep.

A/N: I know, I started this story months ago and ignored it, but I am planning to continue updating it from here on out. Thank you so much for the reviews, and I know that this chapter is really short, but that is only because I'm trying to decide where to take the story next so bear with me.


	3. Chapter 3

Sark had never been more confused by this woman in his entire life, he thought as he sat alone in his study with his feet perched on the desk and a glass of wine sitting in his hand. Sydney Bristow is not the kind of person who simply decides to 'switch sides'. It couldn't possibly be that simple. No, he was sure of it. Sydney Bristow would never betray her country; she would never betray her friends and family.

Obviously spending a year in CIA custody would put him behind in the game, but he'd never been so completely out of the loop. What could possibly drive her to work for the enemy? She wouldn't do it voluntarily, so either she'd been forced into it, or she actually wasn't. Was it possible that she was still working for the CIA? If so, why would they be searching for her? This made no sense, he decided. There was only one option left. The Covenant had acquired Agent Bristow through force. They were the ones who took her and burned her house down. The Covenant faked her death.

He ran millions of possibilities through his mind as he made his way to the kitchen to fix dinner for himself, and perhaps something for the lovely agent snoozing away upstairs. He of course had had the opportunity to speak with her earlier, but hadn't taken it, deciding instead, to make a game plan for confronting Sydney later. How could he get her to reveal her plans? No matter, she would be waking soon and he would have his chance. For now he would put his mind on dinner; Roasted chicken with potatoes and salads. Surprisingly, Sark loved to cook, such a simply soothing activity in a stressful, chaotic world. Of course nobody would ever believe that Mr. Sark, super-suave, spy extraordinaire would possess such talent outside of the world of murder and mayhem, let alone enjoy it. His mind wandered as he cooked, it always had. There was no need to strategize or worry about work. It was so nice.

The smell of the food permeated through the air and he inhaled the wonderful scent. Sark finally decided to go retrieve Agent Bristow as the food continued roasting in the oven. He trudged up the stairs and headed to her room. Sark opened the door and stepped inside, and was greeted with the sight of Agent Bristow sleeping peacefully on the bed. This would be perfectly normal had it not been for the cuffs holding her hands above her head. He approached her slowly, as if in fear, which knowing Sydney was not completely out of the question.

"Agent Bristow," he said perhaps a little louder than necessary.

She slowly stirred, rolling her head to the side moaning. She probably had a headache from all of the drugs he'd given her. Her eyes began to open excruciatingly slowly. Sydney blinked in an attempt to clear her vision as Sark came into view. Wait a minute, she thought, Sark!?

"You," she slurred. "What the hell did you give me?"

"You'll have to speak more clearly Agent Bristow, you sound a bit intoxicated there."

"What do you want!?" She yelled.

"An interesting question Miss Bristow. We'll get to that soon enough, but for now I must insist upon your cooperation." He replied.

"What?" She asked, flabbergasted.

"You've been asleep for almost a day, and I am assuming you are hungry." He told her gauging her reaction. She stared at him, her face completely blank.

"Thirsty perhaps?" Nothing. "Well then I suppose I'll just leave you be for the night." He said as he turned to leave.

"Wait." She finally said.

"Yes?" he said returning to her side, but she said nothing. Stubborn girl, he thought. "You will behave? You will not attempt to escape? You won't attack me?"

"I…" She began.

"You…what?" interrupted Sark.

"I won't try to escape," she told him.

Sark didn't make any move to release her.

"Please," she whispered. "I promise I won't…"

"Alright, no need to get dramatic Agent Bristow." Sark said as he moved to uncuff her hands.

Sydney flinched as his hands touched hers.

"No need to get jumpy Miss Bristow,"

He finally released her, holding onto one of her hands in his and placing his other hand on her back to help her up. She sat slowly allowing her body to adjust to this movement. Sydney's eyes fluttered closed as her head spun. Sark did not let go of her hand though, instead he helped her swing her legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. Her legs felt like jello and did not support her weight well. Sark looped and arm around her waist and led her to the stairs. They slowly descended, as he continued to support her.

"That is the bathroom," he said, leading her to a small room in the corner. "You can use it to freshen up if you like."

Sydney nodded and he allowed her to enter, and closed the door behind her. As Sark waited outside the door, and Sydney took the time to splash cold water on her face. She looked in the mirror, staring at her blonde hair. She wanted so much to dye it brown again, to be herself again. No time for such ideas now though. Her thoughts now strayed, looking for a way out of here, but there was no window, and only the one door. She couldn't possibly escape right now. So, she opened the door and slowly stepped out. Sark was immediately at her side replacing his arm around her. She resisted his help but his arm was firm and he wouldn't let go.

They made their way to the kitchen as a wonderful smell assaulted them. Wow, Sydney though, that smells good. She closed her eyes enjoying the scent. Sark looked down at her and chuckled at her reaction.

"What may I ask is so funny Sark?" she said, annoyed.

"You my dear, only you," he told her.

He led her to her seat pulling it out, and pushing it back in for her.

"So what's for dinner?" she asked sarcastically.

"It's a surprise Love; I've been cooking just for you." He told her, equally sarcastic.

"Don't think for a second I'm eating anything that you have touched."

"Sydney, Sydney. You needn't be so stubborn. If I'd wanted to hurt you I would have done it while you were asleep."

Sark walked about the kitchen putting food on their plates and drinks in their glasses. Wined for him, red of course, and water for her.

"I'd share my wine however I don't believe it would mix well with the drugs in your system," He told her.

Sydney rolled her eyes. God he's annoying, she thought. He shouldn't be the one patronizing her. He was an ass. A stupid, cocky, British ass who deserved to be shot. Nothing that ever came out of his mouth was even the slightest bit genuine.

"Sydney, you might at least pretend to listen to what I'm saying," she finally heard.

"Huh?"

"Would you like a salad before your dinner?" He asked her again.

"Yeah sure, whatever," she said as he put all of the plates on the table. There was chicken, mashed potatoes, salad and rolls. It smelled so good. He sat down and began to dig in to his food as Sydney stared at him.

"You cooked all of this?" Sydney asked eyes wide with shock.

"Does it surprise you so much that I actually know how to cook Sydney?" he purred her name. "I do know how to provide for myself outside of work."

"I…it…" she stuttered.

"I seem to have an uncanny ability of surprising you into a rambling puddle." He paused. "Well are you even going to try it?" No reply. "Bloody hell Sydney it's not poison."

She reached to her plate, taking a bite of the food. God it was delicious. Wait, no! This is Sark, she can't eat his food. It's probably some sort of trap, she thought. But then if it was, it was a really poor one.

"Well?" He interrupted her thoughts yet again.

"It's alright." She said nonchalantly.

"Well I'm glad to have your undying approval."

"Yeah well don't quit your day job, you're no Emerald. Then again maybe you should quit your day job."

"You know for someone so keen on keeping me from my work, you seem to be doing just as much damage as I ever have, _Julia._" He taunted.

She jerked her head up at the mention of that name. Who the hell did he think he was? He has no right to pass judgment on her, he doesn't even know what he's talking about.

Sark watched her sort out her thoughts as anger and sadness flitted across her face. She was lost. He could see it in her eyes. Sydney was stuck in a world that she hated and despised and had no way out. It was sad really, an agent of her caliber being used like a toy. It's not right, he thought.

"Don't." she whispered.

"Don't what?" he asked.

"Don't call me that." She told him. Her eyes wouldn't leave her plate.

"Sydney," Sark said softly. She looked up at him suddenly. "Miss Bristow I mean." He corrected himself quickly.

He could see a fire in her eyes. It was so intense. Whatever he's said it had obviously pissed her off. She dropped her fork onto the table, not taking her eyes away from his.

"Miss Brist…" he began again.

"Shut up!" She stood, and he followed suit.

"I'm just try…" He tried again.

"Shut up! You do not get to talk about this!" She yelled at him, as she started to back away from the table.

Sark slowly walked towards her, carefully as if he was approaching a wild animal. She seemed to be a bit unhinged. He continued towards her getting closer as she took a step back as he did. She wasn't angry anymore. Her hands were shaking slightly and her face looked tired. His hand reached out to touch her shoulder, and she slapped it away.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

He reached out again but her back was against a wall.

"Stop! Don't touch me! Please don't."

They were barely a foot away. He could see tears in her eyes and one falling down her cheek that she could not hold onto.

Sydney closed her eyes, images of her torment racing through her mind. When she was starving and cold. Tortured and brainwashed. Her head was pounding. It felt like fire. She squeezed her eyes shut, tried to shut out the memories. It wouldn't work. They kept coming. Needles and drugs being forced into her body. Her world was spinning now. Faster and faster. It felt like she was falling, and then…

"Sydney!" Sark screamed, and her eyes popped open, full of fear and pain.

She was sweating and breathing hard, as if she was out of breath. Eyes looking around frantically while she tried to figure out what was happening. The pounding would not stop. She was lost in her mind as her name was shouted somewhere in the background. That was it! Sark! He was screaming, and she looked up at him.

Please," she whispered. "Help me." She pleaded as her world went black.

A/N: Okay so I finally have a proper chapter to give you, and hopefully some Sarkney coming soon (although I'm not sure when)!!!


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